


Got Me Wrong

by samanthahirr



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Community: kradam_kiss, F/M, M/M, Mansion Fic, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-25
Updated: 2010-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 21:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samanthahirr/pseuds/samanthahirr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris isn't as innocent as everyone thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got Me Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [**kradam_kiss**](http://community.livejournal.com/kradam_kiss/). Beta by [**cinaea**](http://cinaea.livejournal.com/).

The producers flew to Arkansas and spent two days interviewing his family and friends. They left with his baby photos, home movies, and hours of footage of his life in Conway, and by the time the show started airing, they'd edited Kris's life and personality down to a 60-second video with a plucky acoustic guitar accompaniment.

That first night in the mansion, the contestants spent hours laughing at each other's video packages. And while they teased Kris for the naked-bath-with-his-cousins baby picture, Kris tried to make sure they understood that he was more than what the producers had put on the screen—more than the sum of his missionary work and recent marriage to his high school sweetheart.

The producers might have branded Kris and Danny as the "good Christian boys" of the bunch, but Kris knew who he really was, and he wanted his new housemates to know the real him, too.

  
~

  
Megan stormed into the kitchen and announced, "That's it. One of you assholes needs to meet me in my bedroom _now_ before I go crazy and start killing everybody."

"What's the matter, princess," Anoop said, "you need some sexing up?"

"No, I need a pedicure and some hand-holding," she rolled her eyes. "I'm freaking the hell out, and there's only one way to burn off this tension. Somebody's gotta lend me their dick for the evening."

Adam stood up and said, with an air of resignation, "I guess I can take one for the team."

"As if," Matt laughed, trying to tug him down.

"Like you could even get it up, Lambert," Megan challenged.

"If the stimulus is hot enough…. And honey, you're definitely hot enough," Adam assured her, shaking free of Matt's grip and moving to stand in front of Megan.

She looked up at him with her hands on her hips. "Puh-lease."

Kris caught the edge of Adam's grin before Adam suddenly swept Megan against him with one arm and bent her backward to plant a kiss on her lips.

"Dude," Mike snorted.

"Not cool, Adam," Matt yelled. "Leave the hot chicks to us straight guys!"

"Uh," Anoop said when the kiss passed the ten second mark, Megan's arms wrapped around Adam's neck and her body arched up against his chest.

When Adam finally released her, Megan got her feet back under her and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "Wow," she said.

Adam smirked at the rest of the guys.

"Yo, Megan, if you're ready for a _real_ man, I got a few hours to kill," Matt offered generously.

"A few hours? You'll only last five minutes," Anoop laughed.

"Fuck off, man!"

"Fuck off, all y'all," Megan smiled. "Tension's been taken care of. You can go back to playing with yourselves again."

Mike gaped at Adam and protested, "No way, come on!"

"I'm that damn good, baby," Adam said.

"Adam, Adam, do me," Matt begged like a fangirl in the front row.

"Hell no, I'm next in line," Anoop cut him off, flailing his arm to get Adam's attention.

"Don't worry, there's enough of me to go around," Adam said, and grabbed Matt up out of his chair, laughing with everyone else at his squeak of protest.

"I was kidding," Matt shouted, flailing, but Adam dragged his tongue up the side of Matt's cheek, swirled it in his ear.

He dropped Matt back in his chair, and they all giggled at the stunned look on Matt's face. "When's the last time you bathed," Adam demanded, sticking his tongue out.

"Dude. I just lost my gay-virginity in public," Matt said with a cheeky grin. "High five," he said to Anoop.

"You're next," Adam said, turning on Anoop.

Anoop squealed and ran from the room, laughter trailing him down the hall.

  
~

  
Once they'd made it to the final 13, the contestants got a chance to get to know each other and figure out the boundaries: how far their relationships would go, how they would interact with each other, the safe topics they could talk about and the ones they needed to avoid.

So far, they mostly got along. Kris felt comfortable talking with any of them, hanging out between rehearsals, making breakfast in the mornings, or kicking back late at night. It was a little surprising that they'd settled on sexual innuendo as their common sense of humor, but he had friends like that back home, so Kris didn't mind all the teasing, the flirting, the occasional games of sex-chicken. It was how everybody let off steam, and how they felt comfortable interacting. It also made a lot of their conversations conveniently unfit for broadcast, he thought, smirking as another cameraman sighed and wandered out of the room where Lil was spanking Allison to a riot of cat-calls.

It wasn't until the third week that Kris realized no one was flirting with _him_.

  
~

  
The game of spin-the-bottle only lasted a few turns, long enough for Megan to kiss Matt to everyone's groans of exaggerated horror, and for Adam to kiss Mike.

Mike was game, daring Adam to do it even as Scott and Anoop howled and banged out a drum roll on the table. Adam shrugged and walked around the group so he could lean past Kris and press his lips to Mike's tight-lipped smile.

Mike pushed him away after a couple seconds, his face cracking in a huge smile as he laughed and reached for his beer. "Oo baby," he said, shaking his head.

"Hey, Sarver, I think this means you're gay, now," Matt grinned.

"Sign me up, man," Mike shrugged. "I kissed a boy and I liked it," he crooned, gravelly and low, which got them all singing the chorus.

The bottle spun again a minute later, and it was Kris's turn to kiss Lil. He smiled, and she smiled back, but when they kissed, nobody paid any attention. Before they'd even gotten back in their seats, the bottle spun again, pointing to Anoop.

"No. No way," Anoop protested as Matt got out of his chair. "Not gonna happen."

"Come on, you pussy," Matt ordered, "don't be such a chicken shit. I'm not gonna bite."

"That's what you said last night," Anoop said, "and I've still got bruises on my ass."

"Oh, you son of a bitch." Matt raised his arm for a fake punch, which Anoop blocked with a fake kick before Megan shoved him out of his chair.

"Ow, girl!" he whined from the floor. "I told you my ass was sore!"

Matt caught a fistful of Anoop's hair and hauled his head into position, leaning down and saying, "Now shut up and hold still."

Mike and Lil cracked up, and Adam rolled his eyes. "This is why I don't play with straight boys," he announced to the table. "They can't decide if they wanna fuck or kill each other."

  
~

  
Kris was closer to Adam than to anyone else in the mansion. They were more than just roommates—they were each other's supporter, cheerleader, and confidant. Night after night, talking in the dark long after they'd given up on sleeping, Adam would confide in Kris the way he didn't with any of the other contestants. Of everyone in the house, Adam _got_ Kris. So it really hurt when he noticed that _Adam_ wasn't….

Well.

Adam flirted with everyone. From the way Adam had described hanging out with his Los Angeles friends, that was how he always acted around people he felt comfortable with. It was just Adam being himself—how he related to people—and he never hid that part of himself around them.

Except that wasn't true. There was one person Adam would never tease that way—one person he treated like an innocent he might accidentally corrupt.

Adam was always friendly and nice to Kris, always made sure Kris was smiling and included, but he never teased Kris the way he did the others, didn't flirt to get a laugh. And considering how close they were in private, Kris couldn't help looking for a reason why Adam, who _understood_ him, would treat him differently. Adam trusted Kris with his insecurities, his hopes and dreams, but not his playfulness. So the fact that he never once played with Kris like that, always treated him like a sheltered church boy, had to mean he wasn't _comfortable_ around Kris.

And that hurt a whole lot more than Kris had expected.

  
~

  
When he told her he thought his housemates had gotten the wrong idea about him—actually believed the "good Christian boy" label the producers had forced on him—Katy laughed at the idea of a sexually-innocent Kris. They hadn't been innocent for _years_ , she unnecessarily reminded him. If the Idol gang needed proof, she suggested he tell them about the five times they'd had phone sex in the past month, or that time they smoked weed and made love in the backseat of Kris's car outside the ice skating rink last winter. (Their experiments with Katy's vibrator were still strictly off-limits, though.)

Self-conscious, Kris thanked his wife for being on his side and changed the subject. It wasn't fair for him to be off on this adventure, singing on national television and living with a group of amazing musicians, and spend his limited phone-time with her complaining that his new friends never let him join in their reindeer games.

Before they said goodnight, Katy's parting words were, "If they don't know the real you, you'll just have to show them. Put him out there. I think they'll like him. I know I do."

  
~

  
The van was winding its way downtown to the theatre, and Adam was giving Kris a shoulder rub from the backseat while bickering with Lil about who the costumers liked more. "Based purely on the number of shoe choices you girls get, it clearly isn't the guys."

Adam's thumb found the perfect spot, rolling over a knot at the tip of Kris's shoulder blade, and Kris inadvertently moaned aloud.

Lil and Matt quirked amused glances his way, and Lil said, "Adam, stop molesting the only _good_ boy on the show."

Adam snorted softly, and Kris could read his mind, could tell by the way the massage eased off that Adam was holding back a teasing innuendo that everyone would love. Kris seized on the opportunity and said it for him.

"Don't stop," he moaned loudly. "More."

Adam's hands jerked away. Matt laughed, but it was a short, aborted thing. Lil and Danny stared at him.

Kris screwed up his courage and met their eyes, smiled to show them it was okay. "Come on, Adam, don't leave me hanging." Because he _was_. He was being left hanging. They were staring at Kris like he'd just told them he didn't believe in God or something. But he knew if Adam would just play along, joke and tease, it would stop feeling awkward; it would _work_.

"Who could ever say no to you, Kristopher?" Adam laughed, and then removed all innuendo from the situation by kissing Kris's temple with a loud smack.

Kris flushed in embarrassment as the others snickered at him and turned their eyes away.

"Girl, don't _even_ tell me you think our leather jackets make up for not getting to play with those Roberto Cavalli heels," Adam continued his argument with Lil, thumbs digging into Kris's back again like he'd never stopped.

  
~

  
Megan's elimination the next night hit hard, leaving them subdued on the ride back to the mansion. There was no celebration afterward, rather a communal drowning of sorrows while a production assistant packed up Megan's suitcase and cleaned out her bathroom.

Kris was upset to see her go, but his depression had more to do with the lingering sting of yesterday's humiliation in the van, so he hid himself in his room, not sure he belonged down there with the others when his thoughts were on completely different problems.

Adam came upstairs after about an hour, eyeliner smudged and eyes a little red, and went straight into the bathroom. Kris wanted to commiserate, but seeing Adam drew his thoughts back to the embarrassment, and the more he dwelled on it, the more he realized that he was actually _angry_ with Adam.

When Adam came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, minus his shirt and eyeliner, Kris set his guitar aside and asked from his bed, "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

Adam looked at him, surprised, one hand frozen in his wet bangs. "No," he said, the 'what's this about' implied in his tone.

Kris shook his head, not really sure yet, but determined to get to the heart of it somehow. "You're not yourself around me."

Adam raised his eyebrows and held his arms out. "This is as 'me' as I get."

"No, like you are with the others. You don't tease me, or laugh at me, or anything else you do with them."

Adam frowned and seemed to think about that for a few seconds. "I don't? I guess I don't push you or anything—"

" _No_ ," Kris insisted, uncrossing his legs to get his feet on the floor. "The way you joke with everybody else. You don't do that with me."

Adam turned away and got a t-shirt out of his drawer, pulled it over his head with his back to Kris. Stalling for time, maybe.

"Like yesterday in the van," Kris continued. "You didn't play along. If I'd been anybody else, you would've said something funny, but you didn't."

"I guess I…. I don't wanna embarrass you. I don't wanna freak you out—"

Kris had been afraid Adam would say that. "If you're worried I'll freak out because you're gay," he said as calmly as he could, "I don't know what to say. I thought I'd made it totally clear that I don't care about that, that I want you to be _you_. It doesn't bother me. I'm living with you for God's sake; I'm the opposite of freaked out. I'm _totally okay_ with it."

Adam shook his head, "No, it's not…." He pushed his bangs off his forehead again and put his hands on his hips. "You're the sweetest guy I know. I just don't wanna see you embarrassed in front of the others. You'll be uncomfortable and—"

"I won't," Kris cut him off. "I've watched you flirt with every other guy and girl here; I'm _not_ uncomfortable with it."

Adam pressed his lips together, clearly disagreeing.

"I'm not some innocent choirboy, man. I'm freaking _married_. I've been having sex for years! And I don't want everybody looking at me like I'm the 40-year-old virgin or something."

"I know," Adam said, getting frustrated. "I know, but you're still _you_. And your comfort zone's a lot smaller than you think, believe me."

Kris's temper flared. "For God's sake, Adam, I know the difference between real flirting and fake flirting. I know you; I can handle you at full volume, trust me."

Adam scowled and stared at him for a few seconds before saying, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna have to show you how wrong you are."

Kris frowned back stubbornly. "I'm not wrong."

"No, here's the deal: you remember what I did to Anoop in the green room tonight?"

Kris remembered it vividly—the nine of them waiting backstage while David Cook performed, Anoop, Megan, and Allison in the bottom three, wondering which of them would be eliminated…and Adam breaking the tension, making them laugh and forget their fears for a few minutes.

"Yeah," he said.

"Okay. Right now, you're Anoop. And all the other Idols are sitting around, watching us."

"I'm too sexy to go home," Anoop had said, a half-hearted protest.

"Maybe you're too sexy for network television," Adam said to Kris now, from the opposite side of their bedroom.

Kris took up the challenge, singing Anoop's response: "I'm too sexy for my shirt."

Adam's eyes narrowed, his posture shifting and gaze focusing in on Kris in a way it had never done before. Kris gulped and stopped singing, suddenly feeling weirdly claustrophobic.

Adam stalked slowly across the crowded room. "Oh really?" he said. "We'll just see about that." And too quickly Adam was _there_ , standing too close, getting a knee on the edge of the mattress between Kris's legs, reaching for the hem of Kris's shirt. "'Cause this is a mighty sexy shirt…."

Megan and Lil were clapping and chanting, "Take it off, take it off," next to him.

Adam had his hands on Kris's shirt, was pulling it off. And Anoop had been giggling and shoving Adam's hands away by this point, distracted from the possibility of elimination as his friends laughed and egged Adam on.

But Kris couldn't giggle, couldn't push Adam away, couldn't even seem to _breathe_ as Adam leered down at him, blue eyes locked on Kris's face with an unfamiliar, predatory intensity. Adam got Kris's shirt off easily and then leaned even closer, vodka on his breath and a hand on Kris's bare shoulder, pushing Kris back against the cushions and coming down over him, hands braced on either side of Kris's head. Adam's knee brushed the insides of Kris's thighs, the only point of contact until Kris nervously spread his legs a little wider and even that touch was gone, just Adam looking down at him, his smile gloating and intense.

"That's more like it," Adam purred, and the laughter had stopped, everyone holding their breaths and staring at Kris, flushed and shivering as Adam lowered his head to Kris's ear and whispered, "Now everyone can see how sexy you really are."

And Kris was paralyzed on the couch—on his _bed_ , but Adam didn't move for a long moment, just breathed hot air against Kris's skin as though waiting for something—for Kris to _play along_ —and then he smoothly pushed off, stood up, and took a few steps back.

Kris sat up and reached for his shirt, his hands fisting in the material as he tried to regain control of his body. He reluctantly looked up to check if Adam was laughing at him.

But he wasn't. Adam shrugged and said, "Yeah, I just don't think you'd be comfortable with that," an affectionate smile taking the sting out of his I-told-you-so.

"Yeah," Kris agreed, voice hoarse, "you might be right." Because what else could he say when he'd just failed Adam's challenge so spectacularly?

"I love you to pieces, babe," Adam said, rifling through his drawer for pajama bottoms. "You don't have to change to fit in with us, seriously. We all love you the way you are." Adam gave him another reassuring smile and took his pants into the bathroom to finish changing.

As soon as the door closed, Kris groaned and rolled onto his stomach, his shirt pressed to his face while he tried futilely to get his flushed skin to cool off, his jack-hammering pulse to slow down, and his stuttering brain to make sense of what just happened.


End file.
